


mind.set

by MissMegara



Series: And Then There Was Him [4]
Category: Figure Skating RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 14:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6707566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMegara/pseuds/MissMegara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Worlds 2016 doesn't go as planned. At least for one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mind.set

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry everyone, change of plans. I decided to skip my update on "Final", but instead I got you this here. So we're all good, yes? ^_^
> 
> I know that his makes me a big fat liar because I said that "Final" would be the last part of the series (and technically it still is the last part because I'm totally going to cheat and change the order of the stories so that the whole series stays in chronological order).  
> But I really wanted to write this story, and I needed some established characters to work with. So now there's one more part to the series ^_^ I hope you'll forgive me. 
> 
> As always, to my lovely beta [Fuchsia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuchsia/pseuds/Fuchsia), thank you for being awesome ^_^
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction, consisting of fictional characters living fictional lives.

Thirty seconds to get to my mark. I use all the time I have, because I need every last moment of it. I stand in the middle of the rink and take my starting position, one arm bent and two fingers straight up in the air. I hear the recorded sound of my own breathing, hear the drum beat for the first time, and only now am I able to take my last deep breath, just as the sound of the flute begins, as I start my first movement. 

I go around the rink, build up speed, do my turns, go into my first quad. I feel my body tilt forward upon the landing and need to put a hand down so I don't fall. So much for perfection. The first element, and I have already failed, I'm already not in sync anymore. I turn again and go on with my program. I know what I have to do, I know all the moves, I have done them so many times before. Sometimes almost to perfection. I know I can do this. I have to do this. I go down the entire length of the rink once again, more speed, more turns, more steps, and then I launch into another quad. It's not perfect, but just good enough. One more jump, one more spin, and then I transition into my step sequence. I want to catch my breath, but I need to do those steps now, I need to do them perfectly this time, like I haven't been able to do all season. I have already made mistakes in this program, but I have to get it right from now on. 

My third quad is coming up. I have to nail this combination, I know that I have to do this one perfectly. But I don't even get close. I fall, and even though I pick myself up quickly, I already have fallen and I can't change that anymore. I try to calculate in my head how many points I have left on the ice just now, not even counting the points I have already lost on the other elements before. This one last mistake alone, it will cost me. But I have no time for this right now, I have to concentrate on the next element. Triple Axel, triple toe. I can do this in my sleep without even thinking about it. I can do this, and this time, I do it, almost perfectly. I set up for my next combination. Triple Axel, half loop, triple Salchow. I know in my heart and my head that I can nail those jumps. But my body betrays me and I fail at the one jump that never lets me down. I nearly stumble and fall when I lose balance on the landing of the Axel, but I manage to somehow finish the combination. At least I do that. But not like I want it, not like it should be. Not what I need, not what I have to do.

One more triple loop. It's not pretty, not by my standards, but at least I don't fall again. I'm hurting. My foot really hurts. I don't know why I even notice it during my routine, because normally I never do. Normally the adrenaline is just too high to notice anything. One more jump. I stay on my feet, but just barely, with a hand down. It's down for less than a second, but I can feel the coldness of the ice seep through my glove and into my fingers, abruptly hitting my heated body. I still command myself to do my next spin, but I can feel my body getting slower, heavier.

I go to the short side of the rink, turn around, face the ice, throw my arms out to the side in unison with the music. I want to scream again. I want to scream like I had done during the short program, when I was standing in almost the same spot on the ice, screaming out my exhaustion and all the pressure, screaming at everyone who doubted me, to look at what I can do. Screaming at everyone who expected me to be perfect again, showing them that this is what I can do, this is what I'm capable of, that I am the best and that I am going to prove it again and again. And just like I have screamed two days ago, I want to scream right now. I can hear people cheering for me, hear them clapping along with the rhythm of the music. But all I want to do is scream out my frustration, my regret, the anger about myself, about falling, about failing again, about letting myself and everybody down, about not fulfilling the expectations set in me. I want to scream, but I cannot even breathe.

I go into the choreo sequence. I do my steps, do my hydroblade, do the Ina Bauer, feel like my back is about to break from all the strain and pressure I put on it. I go into my last spin, I turn and turn and turn, like I've turned on the ice a million times before, and yet I feel more dizzy than ever. I finish my spin, stand upright again in the middle of the ice, face the crowd, the cameras, the judges. I throw my arms out to the side one last time, perfectly timed to the music, to the last beat of the drum. Perfect, like I know I can do it. Like I should have done it. 

Not even close. I wasn't even close to perfect. I turn to the side and drop my head, drop my upper body and just glide along while I try to force some air back into my lungs. My hand touches the ice again. The surface is still cold and slippery, like it has always been. Like it always will be. The only reliable thing around here, unlike me.

I go back to the center and take my bows. I don't deserve it right now, but I show my gratitude for the support I receive from all around. At least that I can scream out. Thank you. Thank you all for being kind, even though I have just failed you. Brian gives me a hug when I get off the ice. He pats my back again and again, while I still bow to the ice and the audience, while we sit next to each other in the Kiss and Cry. He says it's okay. But he can tell that I don't want to hear it right now. He can tell that right now I don't want to talk about it, and so he doesn't say anything more and lets me be. I silently nod when I see my scores. A year ago that same score would've been cause for celebration, but right now those numbers are crushing me and all my hopes.

When the focus of the camera turns back onto the ice, Brian tries to talk to me about it. Just a few quick sentences to get my immediate reaction. But my mind is a jumble and I have no clue how to communicate my thoughts and feelings, nor do I know for certain what I think and feel anyway. I'm glad when he finally leaves. He needs to be somewhere else right now.

* * * * *

When it's Javier's turn to skate his long program, I sit backstage in the greenroom and watch him on a screen. He is amazing, there's no other way to say it. From the very beginning every move he makes is flawless, and I can understand why the audience goes wild, many people getting up on their feet before he has even finished his last spin. And I am one of those who clap for him. A while later I see him appear on the screen, and I know that he can see me too. So I bow down to him, just as he had done only a few months earlier at the Grand Prix Final. He deserves it. I know that I've been beaten long before Javier's scores come up. He was by far the best tonight, and it's only right that he gets rewarded for it.

Shoma and Patrick still have to skate after him, so Javier and Brian join us in the greenroom. People start yelling and clapping as soon as he steps through the door, because just like me, they know that they are celebrating the winner of this night. I get up and make my way through the room, completely ignoring all the other people who want to shake his hand or pat his shoulder. I walk over and take him into my arms, not caring for a second that I must look like a drowning man clinging to a lifebelt. "You were so great. I'm so proud of you," I whisper into his ear. I feel his hands run over my back and grab at my jacket, and I need to make him let go, because I know if he keeps going like this, he's going to make me cry. 

It doesn't take too long until the competition is finished, until it's official. I try not to let it show how devastated I am. I play cute, kick my feet onto the floor, let Javier tease me, tell Brian that I'm fine. And everything goes on like always. There's a certain order to this, a way we do things at these competitions. There are rules about how all this needs to go down, and I'm glad that there are standards I can hold on to right now. I don't have to think about what I need to do, I can simply follow the choreography of the protocol. I go on autopilot for the medal ceremony: bow in every direction, say thank you, shake hands, give a hug, smile, take a flag, another bow, another thank you, another picture. And then I'm finally allowed to go backstage, to escape from an arena full of people whose eyes on me I can no longer bear. But the schedule is meticulously planned and packed until the last minute. Once again I'm refused the chance to catch my breath and get shooed to the press conference instead. I'm lucky this time, though. I don't have to answer too many questions and am permitted to leave early. Everybody will want to talk to Javier anyway. It's his moment, his night, and I shouldn't get in the way. 

When we get back to the hotel, I try to steal away as quickly and quietly as possible. I say that I'm tired, and it isn't far from the truth. I give Javier another hug and pat his back. "Go have fun and celebrate," I say. "See you tomorrow." 

He looks at me strangely when we let go of each other. "Tomorrow?"

"I'm really tired. I go sleep."

I can see the uncertainty in his eyes, but then he nods. I smile when he touches my face, caresses my cheek and wishes me a good night before I turn to leave. I don't look back while I wait for the elevator. I feel a strange sense of relief when the door finally closes behind me, when I'm alone in the tiny room with the silvery walls, the huge mirror behind my back and the glaring lights on the ceiling. I don't notice the faint musical sounds that come from a speaker in the corner. I close my eyes and hear nothing but the humming of the elevator as it speedily ascends, lifting my tired body towards the 19th floor where my room lies.

* * * * *

I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep. I keep staring into the darkness and play it through in my mind. I watch a dark shadow dance across the black ceiling, watch myself move across the blinding surface of the ice. Why couldn't I stabilize that first quad? Why did I fall? Why the mistake on the Axel? Why do I keep failing? I close my eyes, but the shadow is still there, gliding and turning in another kind of darkness behind my eyelids, mocking me, daring me, keeping me from blissful sleep, from the rest that my body and my mind so desperately need.

I don't know if I've imagined the silent knock I think I've just heard. But then there's a buzz and a click, and I can hear how the door to my room is being opened. The light in the corridor gets switched on, and I know that it's Javier, long before he appears from around the corner and at the foot of my bed. He is the only one who has a second key to my room. 

"You're still awake?"

I nod as I sit up, hold a hand over my eyes to shield them from the light. 

"Can't sleep?"

"Why are you here? You should celebrate."

"I did. It's three in the morning."

Has it really been that long? I glance at the clock on the nightstand, trying to at least pretend that I haven't noticed the way Javier looks at me. "Can I stay the rest of the night?" he says, and I'm certain it shows how surprised I am that he's actually asked. Sometimes it sucks that he knows me so well. I didn't want to make him feel unwelcome, but the truth is that I really didn't want to have him here tonight. I would've preferred to only see him again the next day and to have a few hours to myself. I don't want to drag any more people down with me. Least of all him.

"You want me to leave, don't you?"

Sometimes it _really_ sucks that he knows me so well. "I messed up tonight. I'm sad about that, and I don't want that you feel sad too. You should feel happy."

His immediate reaction catches me by surprise. He laughs. Not really loudly or in a way that I feel like I'm being laughed at. But still: he laughs.

"Yeah, sorry cariño, but... I _do_ feel happy."

"You should."

"Then let me stay. I had a good night, and I don't want to end it alone in a cold hotel bed. Not when my boyfriend is just a couple of rooms away." 

I press my teeth together to keep my mouth from falling open, and when I finally manage to start breathing again, I nod. I feel selfish. I had told myself that I did it for him, that he would feel obligated to take care of me, to comfort me, although he should be nothing but ecstatic about what he had achieved tonight. Not one moment had I wasted thinking that maybe he would _want to_ be with me. Not for my sake, but for himself.

I have a couple of minutes to obsess over my latest failure while Javier is in the bathroom. We both keep a change of clothes and some nightwear in the other one's room. We've become pretty good at the hiding game, and usually we're able to find at least some moments for ourselves, no matter how busy or exhausting our days get. When Javier comes back, he switches off the blinding ceiling lamp and I turn on the dimmed nightlight that's built into the giant headboard. I want to say _"I'm sorry"_ as soon as he crawls under the blanket with me, but my first instinct is to keep him at arm's length. "You smell," it slips out before I can prevent it.

"What, still?" he says and sticks his nose into the collar of his shirt. "Brian spilled a drink on me. More like a whole bottle." He giggles foolishly, but his laugh fades quickly. "I can go wash again if..."

"No, stay." I push him down on his back and lean over him, ignoring the stench of stale alcohol that obscures the well-known scent of his body. I bend down to kiss him and slip my hand into the gap between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his boxers. I can feel the small trail of hair on his stomach as my hand roams over his skin, undecided if it should go up over his chest or straight down into his pants. I remember the last time we had post-competition-sex, a couple of months ago in Barcelona, after I had won the Grand Prix Final. He sneaked into my room that night, like he had done all week. He told me that I had been fantastic out there, that he wasn't even really sad about coming second, not after seeing me skate like that. He told me that he was proud of me, that he was happy for me. That he loved me. That it was now time to prove that I was a real champion and that I could pull off that kind of amazing performance in bed as well. I remember how much he made me laugh during a night that ended up being part sex and part comedy act. I remember how much I loved every second of it, and how much I loved him for making that night perfect for me.

My hand has decided which way to go, but just when it starts moving, Javier takes it into his own and pulls it out from underneath his shirt. "We don't have to," he says and keeps me at bay when I try to kiss him anyway. 

"But you want to."

"Really Yuzu, it's..."

"You came for this. We can do it."

He grabs me by the shoulders and makes me lie back down, and now he's the one leaning over me. "You think I came here just to fuck you?"

I feel myself choke on the words he'd just spat into my face. It's not like him to talk this way, and I know it's a sign of him getting angry. And I know that he has a point. "I'm sorry," I mumble. "I'm sorry. I do everything wrong today." 

I want to slap myself. Did I just sound as pathetic to him as I did to my own ears? I hate it when I'm this weak and self-absorbed. And I hate even more that I'm still only concerned about myself. That all I think about is why I had even let him stay here, that I should've made him leave, that I should've known better than to ruin his night with my egocentric attitude. I just about manage to hold back my tears when he looks at me with that sad smile of his. I know that he means well, but it always makes me feel bad when I see how he worries about me. I shouldn't cause him so much sorrow, especially not on a night like this. 

He sighs and caresses my cheek with one hand, the other one still on my arm. Sometimes I feel like a skinny twig underneath his touch. Sometimes everything about him seems so much bigger and stronger, and I'm afraid if he's not careful enough, he may break me, if only by accident. I wrap my arms around him and hold him tightly when he snuggles up to me and lays his head on my chest. And in moments like these, I feel like our places are reversed. Like I'm the bigger man, like I'm the one who could do harm to him, even though it's the last thing in the world I would want. Sometimes I don't know which role I prefer, because they both scare me.

"Brian wanted to check up on you. See if you're okay. But I told him to wait until tomorrow."

I only whisper _"Thank you"_ and don't delve into the subject anymore. After the press conference, I had talked to Brian briefly. It hadn't been a very fruitful conversation, but that was entirely not his fault. Talking to him was pointless as long as I felt like the inside of my brain was filled with more waste matter than the average garbage truck.

"Are you okay?

I don't answer and only pat his forearm.

"Do you know what went wrong?"

I force myself to keep breathing steadily, because I know that he can sense those tiny changes in my reactions. It's almost like he's only holding me so tightly to make sure I wouldn't be able to lie to him. But answering truthfully doesn't come easy to me right now. Because while I have thought about it ever since I had struck the final pose of my program, I still am not sure if I have really found any satisfying answers to all my questions. "I think," I start, but already I'm lost as to how to finish the sentence. "I think... that I think too much."

And just as I say it out loud, I realize that this was probably the answer all along. For hours I've been wracking my brain, trying to figure out why I had failed. Why I couldn't will myself to stabilize my best jump, why I noticed the weight of my body so much, why I couldn't prevent the fall and had to put my hand down, why I couldn't block out pain that would normally never bother me for even one second of those four and a half minutes. Why my thoughts had been so overbearingly loud that I hadn't been able to hear my own music anymore. All those thoughts that were following me, never letting go, making me the culprit who spins them around, who spreads them over the ice like an invisible web. Making me the one who causes the problem and who then gets caught up in it at the same time. Now I'm lying here in this half-dark room, staring at fading shadows on a dimly lit ceiling, my mind still not ready to let go of it all. And from a distance, I hear a quiet noise coming from the body that's resting half on top of me. Javier does it again: he laughs. In the same way as he did before, just a heartfelt, quiet laugh that's surely not meant to offend or hurt me in any way. 

"That's the big revelation? You think too much?" he says and pushes himself up to lean on one arm. "I could have told you that."

I don't answer, because I can't think of anything to say. Words don't seem to do me any good right now. He's probably right anyway, he probably could've told me. He's come to know me so well, sometimes I think he knows me better than I know myself. His gaze follows his hand as he lays it on my chest, stroking over it lightly. I like it when he does that. It always calms me, and I always feel like he's not even doing it intentionally. It's just one of his caring gestures, like when he smiles at me and then fleetingly touches my face or neck. It's a short moment of intimacy that doesn't need any words or explanations. 

"You helped me win tonight. You know that, don't you?"

I accidentally shove his arm aside when I take his face between my hands. "You don't win because I was bad, you win because you were really great. You deserve this for yourself alone."

I hadn't anticipated the smile that suddenly appears on Javier's lips. I have looked into his face so many times, I should know every possible expression by heart. But sometimes he surprises me, and sometimes it catches me off guard that I could really be the cause when he looks at me like that. 

"That's not what I meant." He bends down to kiss me before he again leans on one elbow. "Yesterday I was close to withdrawing. All those problems I had the last few weeks, and then I injure myself again during practice. But you said... _No way, you can't give up. Don't think about problems all the time, just go out and skate. You can do it perfect in practice, you can do it perfect here._ "

He tried to imitate my voice and way of speaking, but his own accent got terribly in the way. Both those things make me smile. "Sounds like I don't take my own advice," I say, trying to laugh, but I can hear how my voice gets brittle, and I feel my eyes get watery. I don't even know where this is coming from right now, and I feel so stupid when the first tear runs down my face. 

"It's okay that you're sad, and it's okay that I'm happy. And we both deserve not to be alone tonight."

Javier smiles sweetly at me when he brushes the wet trail off my cheek, and I just silently nod. He switches off the light before he snuggles up to me again, and soon both our bodies give in to exhaustion as we fall asleep, tightly holding on to each other.

* * * * *

When I wake up the next morning, I'm glad that Javier had come to stay with me. I hadn't realized how dreadful it might be to open my eyes to nothing more than an unfamiliar and empty room. But the first thought that now comes to my mind is not about all the ways that I had failed the day before. The first thought of this day isn't a thought at all, but just a feeling of comfort and warmth.

Javier reaches for the nightstand and kills the alarm. "Good morning," he yawns before he turns around again and pulls me back into his arms.

"Yes, a good morning," I mumble and snuggle my face into his chest. 

We didn't get to sleep in, but our day isn't actually all that busy. We have some meetings and interviews, some together and some separate from each other. And then there's of course the small medal ceremony that we need to attend. We get called up to the stage one by one, we receive our medals and our honorary gifts. It's not quite as formal as all the other official meetings we had this week. We need to wait a moment because there's a hold-up with one of the translators they have here for me. I'm thankful that they are willing to take a break, because I sure don't feel an urge to go through the Q&A part all on my own.

Javier points out a woman at the back of the room, who's wearing a full-on Pooh costume. She beams and starts waving her arms when she realizes that we're looking at her. I laugh and give her a little wave back. "It's amazing what some people are willing to do for you," Javier snickers next to me. 

"You must bring Mickey more often. Then maybe next time somebody comes in Mickey costume."

"Mickey is back at the hotel." Javier leans over and shields his mouth with one hand as he whispers into my ear. "I think he sneaks out sometimes. I think there's something going on between him and Pooh." I chuckle and try to lean away, but he holds me back by the arm. "Just imagine all the dirty things they're probably doing right now. They see us all the time and..."

I burst out laughing and nearly drop the box with the watch I had just received. Luckily the ceremony continues at this moment and Javier doesn't get to spin his fantasies any further. For only a second I think about the other medal ceremony the day before, and how I had thought that it would take a while until I could laugh freely again. Javier winks at me from time to time, his glance accompanied by a meaningful smile. I wonder how hard it would be to ask all these people to leave us alone for only a minute so I could sling my arms around his neck and kiss him.

* * * * *

Galas are always fun. We all get to wind down and just have some fun after a long week of competitions. And I get to dance out the last bits of tension that my body still holds, which is exactly what I do during the group numbers.

We're half way through the second half of the gala. I stand at the boards and wait for them to announce my name. For a short moment I remember that I'm not the last one to skate today, that there will be another four performances after mine. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, with the pictures I had just seen on the big screen still flickering behind my eyelids. I hear all the people in the arena, all the sounds of speaking voices and moving bodies. I skate to the middle of the rink when I hear my name, I find my position, find my center. I look down onto the ice, and as I breath out, it is as if all my worries and doubts are floating down onto the shimmery surface. I hear the first chords of the music and lift my head again. Not only because the choreography demands it, but because it feels right. I know every move by heart, and in my heart every move has meaning. I don't even need to do anything, I can just let go, let my whole body move on its own. I want to tell a story about disaster and despair, about getting drowned both literally and by feelings of fear and anguish. About breaking free of all that, about fighting the pain and standing tall in the face of your own helplessness. I only realize that my program is over when the music ends. I look up, past the blinding spotlights and into the darkness below the ceiling of this giant arena that showers me with applause and cheers. But I don't see or hear any of it. I look up, straight through the darkness and beyond the ceiling, into a space that no one has seen yet and that no sound can reach.

* * * * *

After the closing banquet, Javier and I go to our own rooms, but only a couple of minutes later he comes back to me. Tomorrow we both have to go our separate ways, heading in different directions, as we so often do. It will be a while until we see each other again, and so we want to spend our last night in Boston together.

"Did you change something about your exhibition?" Javier asks as he comes out of the bathroom and throws his clothes over a chair. "I came to the rink to watch you skate. It seemed different than last time."

I'm sure I look as confused as I feel. "No, it was the same. Why?"

Javier shrugs his shoulders and lays down next to me. "I don't know, something was different." He smiles and caresses my cheek. "Maybe it was you. I've just never seen you skate it like that."

It almost feels like an ambush when I push the blanket aside and roll on top of him. It's late and we need to get up early tomorrow, so we both know that nothing much is going to happen tonight. But for a short while I will take the liberty to do what I want. And right now I want to run my fingers through his hair and kiss him until he begs me to let him come up for air. It doesn't get that far, because I stop when he starts snickering. "What's so funny?"

"Five minutes ago we agreed that we're too tired for sex."

"You change your mind?"

"Me? You're the one on top of me."

I do that nasal giggle that automatically makes my head twitch and causes me to squeeze my eyes shut. I used to think that this made me look kind of coy, maybe even sexy. By now I'm pretty sure the only thing it does is reveal me as the silly dork that I am. But I know that he likes it, and that he really does think that it's hot, in a very special kind of way. It's become a habit I don't want to get rid of anymore. 

"You seemed to have fun today," he says and strokes my hair. "At the gala and the party."

"I had very much fun."

"So... you're okay, right? We're okay?"

"I'm okay. And of course we're okay. What happens in competition is never about us."

"But it still affects us."

"In a good way. We learn, and we get better, not bad." I take his face between my hands and press my forehead against his. I can't keep my body from shivering when I remember that feeling from two days ago, when I stood in the middle of the ice after my messed up skate. I remember how forlorn I felt, how I wasn't able to sort and silence all the voices in my head, while thousands of other foreign voices were coming at me from all around. I remember how I tried to bury myself within my thoughts, but that no matter how deep I would dig, I would not find any answers. I know that alone it would've taken me much longer to get out of this hole. But he pulled me back, because he wouldn't allow me to sink any deeper than I already had. 

"Uff, you're getting heavy. How much did you eat at the banquet?"

I laugh and kiss him on the cheek before I move over to lay down next to him, my fingers still clinging to his shirt. 

"Wanna get some sleep now?"

I nod and let go of him so he can switch off the light.

"You can try to beat me next year," he says as he rolls back over and snuggles his face into my chest.

"Oh, I will," I reply and pull the blanket closer around both or bodies.

"You didn't mean that you will just try, did you?"

I awkwardly bend down, move my hand under his chin and lift his head. I feel a dent appear underneath my back when Javier pushes himself off the mattress to wrap his arms around me. Our faces collide, his forehead lightly hitting against my chin, and we both chuckle through the darkness before our lips meet one more time. I don't remember what I meant or even what we had just talked about. And as my hands run over his scratchy cheeks and he kisses me again, I banish all thought from my mind and allow myself to feel at peace. The rustling of the bedlinen drowns out my sigh as Javier lays back down, his head on my chest and his arm loosely slung around my waist. He mumbles something that I don't understand, but I don't ask anymore. I just pull the blanket back over his shoulders, and soon we both drift off to sleep.


End file.
